Bows are Strung...
'Northreach: Medial District ' ---- :Having grown in the shadow of the northern Aegis wall, the Seamel township of Northreach is somewhat of a dark horse; a dark horse in both a literal and metaphorical sense, no less. Much of the township is often set in perpetual shadow, cast by the six-hundred foot wall that looms above it, making it a somewhat cold and umbral township, though one that tends to import a lot of torches and lanterns. :However, in the literal sense, Northreach is a township that developed entirely beyond the public eye. It grew as a township that drew little attention, funded by a mysterious benefactor of House Seamel, while the Empire left the construction of the North Gate to the Imperial Watch and their engineers. Thus the two grew in tandem, and the unveiling of Northreach as a township around that awesome gate was a surprise to all. :As a location, Northreach drips Imperial architecture and style. Most of the buildings that form the moderate township are neatly arranged around main roads, with passages and alleys running between them, with no sense of crowding to be found. Townhouses of charcoal granite walls and timber support beams dominate the architectural design of the township, with larger estates providing the various services that all townships offer, as well as a few that remain unique to Northreach alone. :The Wailing Wench Tavern, a large inn and publican building, stands in the very middle of what is known as the Medial District, acting as a central hub of activity. Directly next to the Tavern rests a two-story building belonging to the Steelwood Company, while the Swiftwolf Archery Tradehouse stands near to it as an equally large merchant townhouse, while smaller trade buildings flank them on all sides, attempting to profit from the trade they draw in. :The North Gate looms in the north within the gap in the Aegis, while the southern gate that leads back onto Northreach Road is to the south. The Sinistral District, acting as the residence district, rests to the west, while the Dextral District, acting as the trade district, can be found to the east. ---- Meian is standing outside of the stables, calmly brushing the coat of her large black horse with a comfortable, peaceful smile on her lips, enjoying the weather even as the wind tears at her hair. Kael? Kael who got caught out again by the sun, Kael who's exceedingly late and looks mightily unslept, he comes bounding up from the eastern district, hair wild and grinning widely, if tired. His steps would, in theory, take him in the direction of the Tavern - the afternoon's crowd serving as just a momentary distraction. There's purpose, there. Meian is near enough to there, but distracted in the process of steady even brushstrokes. The horse's coat is gleaming sable and with hardly a hair out of place, suggesting it's been brushed a good many times before yet, but Meian keeps at it... with a somewhat daydreaming expression. HORSE... oh. Wait. That's a /Meian/. But she's next to a HORSE. He notes her of course, her wolfish husband, altering course in her direction and sort of circling at thirty paces. You know, sorting out the puzzle that involves getting close to the girl without getting in range of the evil demon with four hooves and that placid expression. Kael-sense provides a solution to this dilemma, thankfully- Meian turns from her work at that approach, a beaming smile wreathing her face with cheer. Brush returning to Whinny's saddlebags and reins passed off to a stableboy, the girl traipses over towards her husband, calling, "Good morning!" He holds out both hands - staying /well/ clear of the horse, grinning - "Mornin'? Afternoon, I figure. Y' are beautiful, m' heart, jus' t' say.." Kael only /truly/ relaxes when Whinny's well on his way back to the stable, though the young man's smile never falters. "y' got work t'day?" "I *could* have work if I chose, but I don't have to today," Meian answers as she folds those hands in hers, still beaming up at Kael. She looks even more radiantly cheerful than usual in her husband's presence, simple joy animating every inch of her expression. "Do you have other plans?" "... Aye. I need yer help." Oh, there's /such/ mischief there. - "C'mon, I got t' eat sommat afore I fall o'er." He tugs on her hands, heading for the Tavern, "An' I need Celeste. S' jus' no time fer anythin'." Meian blinks blankly, but follows along with Kael's lead. "I'm... hungry too," she allows after a moment, shaking her head. "And what do you need my help with? You know you've got it." Her cheer doesn't fade, but now there's a lively note of curiosity in it too. "I... got a job." Those four words are filled with something - oh. Wild. Amused. Fun. Kael glances back to her with an expression of such mischief that it's a wonder something hasn't been stolen or someone glued to a wall somewhere. "Fer a friend. An' I cannae much say 'no', but I donnae figure /she/ figures I kin do 't. But I kin maybe - but y' got t' keep it a secret, y' do." 'The Wailing Wench Tavern: Tavern Hall ---- :''The Wailing Wench Tavern stands as one of the largest publican services in the Empire, acting as both a Tavern and Inn for those who wish to partake of that which it offers. A four-level structure if one counts the basement, the Wailing Wench features the main tavern hall on the ground floor, private lodging and rooms on the second floor, an as-yet unconverted loft for storage and the occasional private deal (or proverbial roll in the hay), and the previously mentioned basement, which is sealed via an exceptionally complicated lock that can only be opened by the owner, though very rarely is. :The tavern hall itself is a mostly "L" shaped affair, split between the large and equally spacious rectangular tavern itself, and the segregated kitchen area hidden in a room at to the right of the bar. That bar rests at the southern end of the "L", features a rich and polished redwood surface andcounter, complete with barstools and an elegant display of hanging mugs and tankards. An uncountable number of bottles rest in wineracks that span the length of the wall behind the bar, while barrels of ale and mead stand off to the sides. :Wooden beams the shade of ecru yellow comprise the well-trodden floor, while khaki-shaded granite forms the walls, with the upper halves being paneled in wood that exists as the same colour as the floor. Redwood support beams and highlights finalize the colour scheme, giving the Wailing Wench a very rustic and inviting feel to it. Redwood tables and chairs span the length of the hall, while benches and booths line the walls to provide extra seating to those that want it. :A redwood staircase ascends in a "T" shape to the second floor via the eastern wall just next to the bar, while a performance stage ingresses from the middle of the western wall to the left of the main door that rests in the northeast of the "L". :Paintings of various busty maidens and wenches on the walls contrast against the real things that serve ale and various other pleasures - some of the flesh - to those that desire them, regardless of gender or class. Cleavage is on tap here as much as the ale, as are periods of high spirits and entertainment, and quieter times of subtle conversation and talespinning. Stained glass windows prevent the troubles of the world from getting into the establishment. ---- "I can keep secrets," Meian agrees, and for some reason her smile widens again for a moment. "Well, tell me then! Over lunch, though, of course." She weaves through the late lunchtime crowd for a new table, stealing curious glances over to Kael as she goes. He diverts long enough to spend.. frankly.. what looks like the last of his imperials on something lunch-like in large quantities, taking the time to even acquire a glass of something mead-like for the lady in addition to his usual tankard of simple water. It's a diversion that even he seems to chafe against, pacing and grinning as though it is practically impossible for him to hold still. And when he returns, it's with a merry grin, bearing food and - "Th' goose, I got fer ye." He settles into a chair, smelling of wild spaces and autumn... a sure sign he could probably use yet another bath. Meian sighs mildly at Kael, shaking her head. "You have to let me pay now and then," she informs her husband gently, "because you -know- that I can, okay? But... well, thank you." And again, her face relaxes into a rueful, cheerful smile. "Now, come on! I'm really curious." Kael keeps his voice low - "well, I ran 'cross her grace in th' Library, yestereve." That grin stays impish as he digs in to his own food. "hae nae slept sense - likely wi' nae t'night, either. How d' ye feel about.. well.. playin' at th' Edge t'morrow eve?" "I have to ask what sort of game we're playing, though," Meian remarks softly, leaning forward to peer at Kael over the table. Her platter of goose is set into with a somewhat restrained appetite, but she does consume the food steadily, even if her amused attention is entirely on the other mage. "... well. Sh' hae been waitin' a while t' get wed.." It's innocent, there - "An'.. sh' tol' me th' thing she wanted more 'n anythin' were her, a priest, 'n Serath 'n a sack 'n a small room t'gether." Kael looks down into his stew, just.. completely unable to keep the mischief out of his tone. "Well. M' nae one fer stickin Serath 'n a /sack/... but... I almos' got 't t' where all o' that wi' be in th' Chapel at th' Edge. T'morrow night." "Her..." Meian echoes softly, and then her eyes widen as the full enormity of this plan sinks in. "Oh my goodness," she whispers, "D-duchess Rowena... His Majesty... we're going to make a wedding...?" "no." That's careful. "M' arrangin' t' put all th' pieces fer one in th' same place 't th' same time. An' if th' two /want/ a weddin' when all 's said an' done? Well.." Kael looks up at her, winking. "woul' nae fight 'em on 't. Y' ken th' difference?" Meian ohhs gently at that, her eyes twinkling. "I *see*. Because of course," she murmurs, "we can hardly force such people into a wedding. So what do you need me to do, my love? Flowers, a dress..?" The two freelanders are sitting. Conspiritorial, muttering softly over lunch, in a back corner of the tavern. The only way the conspiracy could get /more/ obvious, mind you, would be a huge sign with an arrow pointing at them both - as it stands, the huddled whispers, grins, and glances at the door are likely clue enough without signposts and blaring trumpets. Voice low, Kael chuckles to Meian. "aye. Fer /her/. An' t'morrow, I need ye t' go 'n /get/ 'er - m' nae sure sh' believes wi' all happen one way o' another. 'ere.." He reaches up to take off that steel ring - "Shoul' get y' in past th' House Guard, o' at least have her wonderin' what 's goin' on. M' goin' ta, if yer willin', sort o' put /her/ in yer hands - sh' needs t' be at th' Edge jus' after curfew t'morrow." And he holds the Ring of the Howling Moon out to Meian. Conspiracy? What conspiracy? Celeste glances down to the haircombs from the night before. Lantern light reflecting off of the silver with renewed vitality. Though the noblewoman does seem to notice a set of familiar faces and waves and heads over. Meian takes a deep breath, reaching out to take the ring with a glimmer in her eye. "Oh, I can do that. A dress, flowers, and picking up the lovely bride," she whispers, nodding her approval. "And you- you'll bring His Majesty, then-" As Celeste approaches, the girl falls quiet abruptly, turning to wave perhaps a little overly-wide. "an'... th' priest. Right 'n time." Kael grins. "an' what'er /ye/ need t' cook sommat nice fer 'em both, 'n all th' odds 'n ends." "Right on time," Celeste inquires as she pulls back the bangs and tucks the combs back into place. She pauses beside their table before continuing. "You two look like you are trying to topple Fastheld with such devious smiles. Should I ask what the occasion is?" "Y-you'd better ask Kael," Meian affirms angelically, "I know naught, r-really." And the girl tucks that ring away with a wink to her husband, going right back to consuming the platter of goose in front of her and washing it down with demure sips of mead. "... well... uh.." Kael gestures to a seat, keeping his voice low. "were jus' comin' t' look fer ye, actually. Uhm. I.. got a couple o' friends comin' by Night's Edge t'morrow. I shoul' hae asked first, I ken... but..." His grin will /not/ stay away, irrepressable. "Considerin' one were s'pposed t' show up 'n a sack, well... " Kael pushes back his bowl of stew. "... y' willin' t'.. y' ken.. be a priest? I got a promise t' make, an' yer th' only one I ken what woul' talk t' me." Celeste's brow arches slightly higher as she slides into one of the chairs. "A sack? What would you need a priest for in such an occurrence?" She flashes a quick glance to the angelic mage. "Meian..." The name a soft whisper, mingled with insatiable curiosity. "Don't l-look at me," Meian remarks, shaking her dark head- that beatific smile really just not wavering- "I'm just a d-delivery girl in my Kael's mad s-schemes." Placidly, she eats away, though her lips twitch with the effort to hold in giggles. "... well. Th' one in th' sack woul' be Serath." Kael's eyes are /pure/ mischief. Well, she was going to sit. Sadly the chair shifts under the noblewoman's fingers and for a precarious moment it looks like she may very well fall flat on her... rump. "Serath? The prince of the blood... Sack?" The last of her words rising just a pitch. "It's f-for his own good," comments Meian sweetly, and then goes right back to her goose. "Well, '/tis/ what Her Grace wanted." Kael is just as sweet, picking up his tankard of water. "And she wants him in a sack... "Celeste mulls over what the two mages have eluded. A sly smile slowing beginning to take form to her lips. "Ahh, I see. And this is to be tomorrow?" The noblewoman looks back to Meian as if to confirm the facts. "I can't imagine w-where I'll find a dress nice e-enough," Meian muses to herself, "by -tomorrow-. T-that's going to be inconvenient... I s-should probably be on that r-right now." "... wi' only be what sh' wanted, Celeste - " That's got a note of caution in it, Kael sipping at that tankard.. "'er, a priest, 'n Serath 'n a sack. o' as close 's I kin get. But wi' hae' e'erythin' there if th' decide t' take that where sh' were meanin' t' take it. Elsewise? I figure th' coul' do wi' a night away from servants 'n such, if y' donnae mind givin' up yer guest rooms." "I can lend them my quarters so that no one would bother them and the gardens are there," Celeste offers and turns to flag down a tendress. A slight twitch to her finger at Meian's words. "Dresses? Hmm, I would such Mistress Nepos but I'm not sure that she could achieve such workmanship in a day. Possibly the tailor here in town, Master Reijek or something of the sorts? Flowers would be for Master Songbird." She fingers the gold necklace about her neck, "but I believe he's run off to Refuge." "I can m-maybe find flowers elsewhere... b-but a dress is more important. I can f-find Master Reijek and p-place that order, I think..." Meian exhales thoughtfully. "R-rings? Do we need to get rings s-settled somehow?" "y' leave th' flowers 'n th' like t' me. I may nae hae his hand wi' growin' things, but I got m' own." Kael chuckles, softly - "But aye, th' dress 's bothersome. Her Grace said th' one sh' wanted were lost 'n Light's Reach, when 't were burnt. M' nae sure what t' do 'bout that." He raises a calloused finger. "ye two donnae ferget - may /nae/ be a weddin' t'morrow." "I can see to the rings, Meian." Celeste fidgets with the haircomb. "My workshop is still set up at the house and if I go there tonight and work, I should be able to finish a set of rings... should there be a wedding." She gives each mage a long look. It may even be considered stern except for the smile that chases such severity away. "So a priest, rings, dress, flowers... and a man in a sack. How do we get him there, then?" "I think I can handle the d-dress entirely- Kael, just t-tell me, how tall is she again- and if you do the r-rings, Lady Celeste, and the c-ceremony... Kael will get h-him there. I think we have a plan," Meian remarks delightedly, clapping her hands together. Kael... sort of indicates a spot right at his collarbone. "'bout so?" A grin. "Donnae fret. I wi' handle e'erythin' outside o' what ye two are workin' on. T'morrow, jus' after curfew, at th' edge - s' when 't all hae t' come t'gether." He drains that tankard, then stands - "I got a lot o' ground t' cover afore I hae t' start dodgin' guards. Y' two keep 't quiet, aye?" Celeste nods and slips back to her feet. "Well, if I'm to finish up those rings, I had best get back to NIght's Edge and prepare it for at least a private party." She dips her head to Meian. "I was good to see you both." "I'll be a-along soon as I've gotten the o-order ready... I've got an i-idea, really..." Meian taps her Mark thoughtfully, then grins between the other two. "I'll see you b-both at Night's Edge!" "aye." And abruptly, Celeste gets a fierce hug from the greying mage - "Thankye." And then he's moved on, leaning down to thieve a kiss from Meian. "T'morrow night. Wi' see ye there, aye?" Kael grins... and is already moving for the door. The Mikin blinks in surprise at the outburst and then only laughs softly. "Light guide and protect you both. Until tomorrow night, my friends." She spins about on her heel and hurries off to the door. One hand already playing along the teeth of the comb again. ---- Return to Season 6 (2007) or Return to The Trap Category:Logs